Take My Hand
by ShipperInFandomland
Summary: The Apocalypse that almost was happened about two months ago. Everything has settled down, but there are still marks left on everyone. Haunting memories and reoccurring nightmares, we see our heroes battle with the aftermath. As well as the feelings from within. But it can't be that bad, can it? Note: Stuff about this story can change at times, such as the summary, but nothing will
1. Intro

"Take my hand."

Crowley held out an open hand to his angel companion. Aziraphale smiled slightly and placed his hand in the demon's, who then proceeded to pull Aziraphale off the bench and to his feet. There was a short pause, the two men standing there with connected hands. This moment only lasted for a second, a single heartbeat. Then Crowley's hand fell away, Aziraphale's curling slightly at the absence.

"This way."

Crowley walked in one direction, towards a nearby restaurant. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, but left his thumbs out. Aziraphale watched his friend walk away for a second before hurrying after him to catch up.

"So..uh...where are we going?"

The angel asked, slightly worried about Crowley's choice in restaurant. He remembered one particular time at a certain "gentleman's club" that Crowley _swore_ had the best crisps in town.

"Relax, Angel. You'll like it."

There was that nickname again. Aziraphale knew Crowley probably gave it to him because of his nature, but his mind couldn't help but wander to the 'pet' definition of the word, as the humans called it. He lingered on this thought as he gave a small, nervous laugh in response to the playful smirk from Crowley.

They came upon the restaurant, and Aziraphale's eyebrows went up slightly with shock.

It was a black-tie type place, more sophisticated then Crowley's usual choice. It also was the type that required a reservation.

As they approached, a hostess greeted them at her stand.

"Good evening! Do you have a reservation?"

She questioned, her bright smile matching her cheerful tone.

Crowley hummed and nodded slightly.

"Yeah. Two under 'Crowley'."

The hostess checked her tablet, and grabbed two menus when she saw the name listed. She then led the pair to their table.

Crowley day in one chair, in his usual slouched position. But instead of moving to sit next to the angel, he remained sitting across from him. Aziraphale sat in his seat, ordering two glasses of wine, along with the bottle.

The demon sipped his drink when it arrived. Aziraphale took a drink as well before speaking up.

"When you invited me to dinner.."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't expect it to be so...Er..._romantic_."

Crowley leaned forward, the reflection of the singular red candle between them dancing on his black sunglasses. He played lazily with the red rose, which was sitting on the table and sprouting proudly from a glass vase.

"Does it make you uncomfortable? Because I can have them take it away if it does-"

"No!" Aziraphale blurted, a bit louder then he expected. He blushed slightly and lowered his voice. "No, it's quite alright."

Crowley gave a lopsided smile, and leaned back in his chair.

A waiter appeared, and Aziraphale ordered something small for himself. Crowley passed on ordering, which wasn't unusual for him.

The two sat there in silence for a moment, neither being able to think of what to say. Aziraphale's food arrived, and he ate slowly, his mind wandering around as it usually did.

Crowley watched as he ate, his eyes hidden again by the black sunglasses.

"How long have we been friends?" Crowley asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"About 6,000 years, I think." Aziraphale said, swallowing a bite. "Why do you ask?"

Crowley shrugged a little. "No reason."

Aziraphale doubted there wasn't a reason but didn't press. "I got a few new books yesterday." He said, trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah? What about?" Crowley asked.

"Some about the French revolution, a couple about the American one."

Crowley nodded a little and looked up at the ceiling lazily. "French revolution...now that was fun."

Aziraphale laughed softly and shook his head. "So many people died, I'd hardly call that fun."

Crowley looked at his companion. "Well, it was for me."

Aziraphale shrugged a little and kept eating, and soon finished. He folded up his napkin and set it on his plate.

"Ready for the check?" The waiter asked, walking away at Crowley's nod. He came back a second later, and set the check in front of the demon.

"It's so nice to see happy couples when they come in." The waiter commented, smiling. "You two have a good evening."

"Oh, no, we're not-" Crowley tried to protest, but the waiter had already walked off. He sighed and put down money for the dinner.

When he had done so, the two men stood up and walked out of the restaurant, Aziraphale holding the door open for the demon.

"You want a lift?" Crowley offered as he walked to his sleek black Bentley.

"Please." Aziraphale replied, smiling as he got into the passenger side seat.

Crowley smiled a little to himself as he drove to the bookshop, pulling in front of the small building.

Aziraphale never really liked how Crowley drove, always pushing the speed limit and quite a reckless driver. But he never complained, unless they almost died.

Crowley turned in his seat to look at his passenger.

"See you tomorrow?" He asked, though he could give a pretty good guess for what the answer would be.

Aziraphale nodded, opening the door to the car.

Crowley smiled slightly and turned back to face the road.

"See you later, Angel." He said as he drove away.

"Bye, Dear." Aziraphale said quietly as he watched his friend drive away. When the Bentley was no longer in sight, he turned around and walking into his shop.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Crowley**_

Crowley drove back to his flat, tapping along to Queen as he drove. He pulled into his garage, the garage door shutting as he walked inside. He took off his coat and sunglasses, throwing them on his chair without a care. He sighed, grabbing his watering can and walking into his garden.

As he watered the plants, he began talking.

"Nice restaurant, nice setting, and the idiot still doesn't know its a date. What does a man have to do?!"

He shouted the last part. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Of course I'm bloody in love with him, why can't he see that? Or is he just ignoring it? Maybe he doesn't feel the same way...I go too fast for him anyway...but it's been 6,000 bloody _years_. He should have at least noticed by now. Only an idiot wouldn't fall in love with him, I mean look at him! He's nice and sweet and-_IS THAT A SPOT?!_"

Crowley grabbed one of his plants roughly, and identified a spot in one of the leaves. He held up the disobedient plant to the others.

"We all know what happens when we have a spot."

He said cooly, walking down the hall. There was the faint whir of the garbage disposal in the distance and the demon came back a second later. He showed his other plants the remnants he now had, as if to show an example.

"No Spots." He said sternly, before throwing away the rest of the plant.

He put away his gardening tools and shuffled into his bedroom, snapping into his pajamas before flopping lazily on the bed. It didn't take his long to drift off to sleep.

There was fire. Fire everywhere. Crowley navigated through the falling beams and burning pages. He searched frantically, almost getting himself burnt in the process.

" Aziraphale! Where are you!" He shouted over the roar of the flames.

There wasn't a reply, and he threw piece after piece of wood out of his way in the search for his friend.

" Aziraphale! Anyone!" Crowley yelled, ducking as a burning book fell from the ceiling. "C'mon angel, where are you-!"

He listened the best he could. In a corner of the shop, he heard a soft voice call to him.

"Crow...ley?"

The demon's head snapped towards the sound, and he quickly made his way over there.

His friend, his angel, was laying on the floor. Golden blood flowed out of a wound on his side, and a large piece of wood stuck out of the angel's midsection.

"Shit shit shit Aziraphale!" Crowley said, his panic levels rising even higher. "We gotta get you out of here!"

"I'm not going to make it." Aziraphale whispered, hissing slightly from the pain.

"You-You will, You have to-" Crowley protested.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale snapped, which caught Crowley off guard. Aziraphale stared up at him, his bright blue eyes faded and weary. He didn't have much longer, and they both knew it. "Go."

Crowley started shaking his head frantically. "No no no I'm not leaving you!"

Aziraphale reached out to touch the demon's hand. In a voice filled with pain and sorrow he whispered: "Go. Please." He took a sharp and shaky breath. "Goodbye, my dear. It's been nice."

Aziraphale's head rolled to the side as the last bit of light faded from his eyes.

"Aziraphale? Aziraphale!" Crowley yelled desperately, shaking his friend to try and wake him up. When the angel didn't respond, Crowley pulled him into his chest. "No no no-!'

"_No!"_

The real Crowley shot up in the real world, clutching the sheets in a death grip. His breathing was heavy, and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead.

A stray tear trickled down his face as he realized where he was. The nightmare had forced him awake, and he swung his legs over the side of his bed. He rested his head in his hands as he tried to regain himself, whispering reminders that it was just a nightmare.

He got up, stumbling slightly as he walked into the kitchen. With his now shaky hands, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it.

But no matter how many times he assured himself, he needed to make sure. So he grabbed the bottle, and stumbled out and into the garage. He pulled himself into the Bentley, setting the bottle into one of the cupholders. He almost floored it as he drove to the old bookshop, taking a swig every few seconds.

In his haste and uneasy state, Crowley had forgotten his sunglasses as well as forgetting to change into his usual clothes.

So now there was an emotional demon, dressed in linen pajamas, drinking whiskey, barreling down the street. And what a sight it was.


End file.
